


Stars In The Morning Sky

by Verasteine



Series: Summertime Sadness [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Community: h50bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2484533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny wishes he had answers, but nothing is going to change until Steve starts talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars In The Morning Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Because I had some more issues to work out. Written for the 'glow in the dark' square on my [](http://h50bingo.livejournal.com/profile)[**h50bingo**](http://h50bingo.livejournal.com/) card. My gratitude to [](http://eumelia.livejournal.com/profile)[**eumelia**](http://eumelia.livejournal.com/) for the beta and handholding and [](http://kilawater.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kilawater.livejournal.com/)**kilawater** for not mocking the idea or smacking me upside the head.

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Steve--"

"Okay, I can't talk about it. That what you want to hear?"

Danny holds up a hand. "Steve--"

"What do you want from me, Danny?"

The exasperation in Steve's voice echoes around the room, and Danny wishes he had an answer to that, an answer that wouldn't hurt and wouldn't tear things apart. "Babe--"

"Don't call me that," Steve snaps.

Danny can't stop himself from taking a step back, staring at Steve until Steve tears his eyes away. Danny watches him turn, says, "Stop," before he realises he's speaking, and Steve freezes in place. "Don't walk out."

Steve looks back at him, eyes hard, making Danny want to either flinch or hit him. He's not sure which. "What are you gonna do, keep me here?"

The sneer makes his fingers itch, makes hitting him be the preferred option, but he stays in place. "Know what you're doing before you walk out that door, Steve."

Steve holds his gaze, making Danny aware that there was a time in Steve's life that he commanded some of the best soldiers in the world, but Danny's not afraid of him and never will be. "Fuck you, Danny."

Danny makes a dismissive gesture, raises an eyebrow.

Steve turns on his heel, walks out the door and slams it behind him.

\--

Danny gives him an hour, and when he doesn't come home, heads out and drives back to his own place. He wants to rant at the walls, wants someone to yell at because Steve isn't there to be yelled at like he deserves, and finally heads to bed, phone on his nightstand, for an uncomfortable night of tossing and turning.

The bastard calls at three in the morning.

"You had better," Danny slurs into the phone, "be drunk."

There's silence on the other end.

Danny struggles up, attempts to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "I'm not playing this game with you, Steve."

"I'm sorry." Steve's voice is rough. "I'm sorry, okay, Danny."

"Yeah." He can't help sighing. "You know there'll be a day when that won't be enough."

"Danny, I--" Steve breaks off. "I have nothing to offer you."

It goads Danny's anger, even if the hour makes him respond a little slower than usual. "Yeah, you bastard, you do. Okay? This could be a good thing we're having here, which is pretty special, let me tell you. You might not know this, being the loner that you are, but I do. I want this, I want this to fucking work, I don't want to walk into your walls because you're--" He runs out of steam, clamps his mouth shut abruptly because what was about to come out he would not be able to take back.

Steve's silence stretches, and then he says, almost quiet, "Because I'm what, Danny?"

Danny rubs his face. "You like having these conversations on the phone, huh?"

"Danny."

"Because you're scared," Danny finally says, a polite version of the words initially in his head. "You're no coward, babe, not usually, but with this? I don't know what it is you're terrified of, maybe it's admitting you're human, maybe there's something bigger that I don't know about you, but you're scared."

He listens to more silence on the other end.

"I--" Steve starts. "Danny--"

He sighs. "Yeah, babe."

"I don't know what to do."

That's what they started with, pretty much.

\--

When he goes over in the morning, he brings malasadas and the good coffee, and he finds Steve looking like he barely slept, dark circles under his eyes betraying him. Steve casts him a look as he walks in, eyes wary as he tracks Danny around the kitchen as he gets plates and mugs and serves breakfast.

It makes Danny want to pull him in and kiss that look off his face, let Steve hide in their physical connection the way he often does.

He puts a plate down in front of Steve, watches him nibble carefully on his food, digs in to his own breakfast with more gusto.

Steve clears his throat. "So are we gonna talk?"

Danny raises an eyebrow. "Do you want to talk?"

Steve looks down at the half eaten malasada on his plate, takes a sip of coffee. "No."

"Well, at least you're honest."

"Fuck you, Danny."

Danny waves that off. "Yeah, yeah."

Steve pushes his plate away, looks up. "Seriously, what do you want from me?"

Danny considers his next words carefully. "I'm not gonna sit here and pretend I'm forcing you into anything, Steve."

That gets him a raised eyebrow of his own. "From where I'm sitting, that's exactly what you're doing."

"I've waited patiently. I've bent over backwards to give you space. This is not me asking for much, Steve, it's me saying that if you're serious about this, about us, you gotta step up and do something."

Steve stands, takes his plate with him and puts it in the sink. He stays by the window and stares out, and Danny twists in his seat to watch him. "Or what?" Steve finally says, not looking back.

Danny feels drained, suddenly, lets his shoulder slump with the weight of how much this has been pressing down on him the last few weeks. "I need more from you. I can't do this on my own."

Steve doesn't respond, keeps staring through the window like it's a lifeline.

"And you getting all belligerent doesn't help your case any," Danny adds spitefully, then kicks himself a bit. "What I mean is..."

Steve leans his fists on the kitchen counter, lets his head hang.

It makes Danny's heart clench painfully. "Babe," he tries softly, "do you think I'd let you do this on your own? Do you think I wouldn't try to be here every step of the way?"

Steve glances at him, not turning his head more than a fraction.

Danny holds his gaze. "Is it that hard for you to lean on someone?"

Steve's voice is raw when he speaks. "I trust you."

For a moment, Danny's mind flails to connect the two, then it punches the air out of his chest. He stands unsteadily, goes over to lean against the counter, facing Steve, and runs a hand over Steve's arm, feels the tension in the coiled muscles. When he squeezes Steve's shoulder, Steve tilts his head to press his cheek against the back of Danny's hand.

Danny pulls his arm back to lever himself onto the kitchen counter, and once settled, he pulls Steve in with a hand on the back of his head. "Babe," he says softly when Steve comes into his embrace, "hey, we'll figure it out."

Steve tucks his nose behind Danny's ear, makes a soft sound.

"You're not alone," Danny adds, and he feels Steve shudder.

\--

They sit out on the lanai and talk about nothing at all, and when Steve drifts off between one sentence and the next, Danny lets him, finds a comforter against the chilling winds coming off the ocean today and tucks it around him.

He does the dishes, has another cup of coffee, throws a load of laundry into the machine, hangs it out to dry when he's done. He takes his third cup of the day back out to the lanai, watches the sun begin its slow descent, and is there when Steve wakes, blinking and frowning in the fading light.

"Hey, babe."

Steve's eyes locate him, observe cautiously, and Danny watches him swallow. "Hey. Sorry I fell asleep on you."

"You looked like you had some catching up to do."

"Yeah." Steve struggles out from under the comforter, rubs his face. "Danny--"

"Hmmm?"

"I don't want to lose you."

Danny puts his coffee down carefully. "Okay. Feeling's mutual, babe."

Steve's mouth twitches, but he never makes it to a smile. "You're... it's..." He clears his throat. "You were right; I am scared."

Danny knows how much that cost Steve, gives him a soft smile.

"I don't--" Steve sits up, puts his elbows on his knees, stares out at the ocean. "I don't know how to do this. I've always... I've always... never had to do this before. You're... you're the first person to ask."

"I got that," Danny admits. "And I realise you'd rather be facing down an army right now than tell me..." he pauses for a second, shores up his courage even if it means causing Steve pain, "why you never smile in photos."

"I smile in photos," Steve replies obstinately.

"You have proof? Like that you were held as a baby?"

Steve winces viscerally, and Danny turns to look at him properly; the emphatic beauty of him enough to pierce Danny's skin. "Fuck off, Danny."

Danny watches him twitch, feels something in his bones, something form in the back of his head that he can't grasp yet. "Stop," he says, and again Steve responds by stilling. "Why does that piss you off so much?"

Steve narrows his eyes as he looks at him. "I was hugged as a child, Danny."

"Why do you tell me that?"

"Because... because... because... you're treating me like I'm some fragile, abused _kitten_ , and that's not me, Danny, it's not... I didn't fucking suffer, okay, I didn't want for anything, I'm not..." He gestures, his voice thick, and Danny watches him struggle, is ahead of him now, found the answer before the warren of Steve's mind led him there. "I'm not," Steve insists weakly, then sinks into a sullen silence.

Danny tries to smile, but it sits wrong with the way his heart is quietly breaking. "Babe," he says, and then can't speak for a second, has to swallow hard twice before his voice will hold.

Steve looks at him, halfway to a glare.

Danny knows he has to do this, knows he'll hate himself for a bit for the way he's doing it, takes a breath and says, "If everything was fine and you were hugged and didn't want for anything, why does it hurt so much right now?"

"Fuck you." Steve is up and out of his chair, avoids tripping over the comforter and makes his way down the steps. In the near-dark, Danny tries to watch him go down to the beach, where the waves are nearly inseparable from the sky, and only the glint of Steve's shoes still tells Danny where he is.

"Steve!" He tries to follow, nearly trips as he makes his way down, orients himself by the rushing sound of the waves. He veers too close, feels wetness spill over his shoes, jumps back and sees light shine off Steve's belt buckle. "Steve!"

He can barely make Steve out as he turns to him.

The waves keep on crashing relentlessly to shore, Danny can't help wanting to keep an eye on them; not being able to see the water is making his skin crawl. "Steve, come on."

"He left us," Steve says, talking loudly enough to be heard over the ocean. "He sent me away, Danny, so what. I was old enough to fend for myself, Joe was there, what do you need me to say?"

Danny balls his hands to fists, wills himself to forget the roar of the sea. "You were fifteen!" he yells. " _Fifteen_ , Steve. He sent you away, he abandoned you, and how much did he do for you before that? Huh? Tell me honestly, Steven, come on!"

Steve turns away again and Danny loses track of him in the dark, has to squint to see signs of him. He finally spots him sitting down in the sand a few yards up the beach, but stays where he is because he doesn't know this cove the way Steve does.

He can't stop himself talking, has to keep going because the words spill out, his voice strong enough to be heard. "Being hugged is not the same as being hugged enough. I watched you fight this, babe, I'm tired of doing it, Steve, _please_ , listen to me." He swallows down everything threatening to clog his throat. "Your dad wasn't perfect, I don't know about your mom, because you never talk about her and that scares me, too, and babe, seriously, it's okay for people not to be perfect. It doesn't mean you loved your dad any less, it doesn't mean he never cared about you, but he _made mistakes_. He should have been at your football games and he should have told you he was proud of you and _fuck_ , he should have hugged you more."

"He was at my football games." Steve's voice is lower now, harder to make out.

"Yeah," Danny yells, exasperated, "and he never fucking told you; babe, that hurt _me_ , I can't imagine what you felt when you found out." He remembers the moment, at the office, the chilling realisation and the wetness in Steve's eyes. "Steve--"

Steve doesn't respond, doesn't move.

" _Steve_." Danny tries to reach out with his voice, tries to break the spell of the dark and the rushing sounds of the ocean. "He should have taught you," he says at last, drained, "that it's okay to fail, babe. He--"

The water rushes over his feet, the next wave breaks against his legs, and Danny sees as it soaks Steve and he doesn't even move. He starts forward, curses the water and his sodden pants as he struggles to Steve's side.

The water's coming up to Steve's thighs, Danny falls down into the incoming surf, puts a hand to Steve's shoulder to feel him shivering aggressively under his touch. "Babe," he says, and Steve's unresponsive. Danny grabs his arm, hauls him up until Steve gets his legs under him, and the next wave comes in, up to Danny's hips. "Jesus."

He drags Steve back, the wind cutting through their wet clothes and making Danny shiver as well. "Jesus," Danny says again, "you're crazy, you hear me, Steve, jesus fuck, you're insane."

"D-Dan-ny," Steve gets out between chattering teeth.

"Yeah, you fucker, trying to give me a heart attack." Danny drags him up to the house and pushes him inside. "You idiot, I could--" He breaks off when he gets a look at Steve's face.

Steve's eyes are wet, his lips are tingeing blue, and he's wracked with shivers.

"Upstairs," Danny snaps, "now, jesus, you wanna catch pneumonia." He prods until Steve moves, slow and lethargic, his natural grace completely sapped. Danny closes the sliding doors and secures them before following Steve, finding him dripping and shaking in the bathroom.

His eyes are tracking, but Danny's not sure Steve's all there, moves around him to turn the shower on and turn it up hot. "Come on, clothes off."

Steve blinks, but starts to take his clothes off, struggles with the sodden mass of his jeans but manages to step out of them. He heads into the shower, makes a startled noise at the heat but ducks under it like it's a chore.

He's in shock, Danny realises, strips off his own clothes and follows, steps into the shower to find Steve just standing there, letting the hot spray come down on him.

"Babe," Danny says softly. "Hey, snap out of it, come on."

He tips Steve's head up to watch him slowly make eye contact, and whether it's heat or his voice, he sees the moment everything hits, the wrecked look that threatens to tear Danny apart, Steve's eyes filling up. Danny thumbs the first tear away, lets the rest be washed off by the shower, takes Steve's hand and squeezes.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispers hoarsely, biting his lip, rubs his free hand over his eyes. "Danny."

"It's okay. Hey, it's okay, I promise."

Steve nods.

\--

The wind is still battering the house and the rain has started when they crawl into bed. Danny pulls Steve in until Steve is wrapped up the way best pleases Danny, close and with his head on Danny's chest. Danny leaves a single light on, wanting to see Steve's face this time.

After a good few minutes, Steve says, voice hoarse, "I used to hate him."

Danny cards his fingers through the damp strands of his hair. "Hmmm?"

"Growing up, sometimes, I used to hate him for the things he made me do." Steve doesn't look up, but he stays huddled close. "'We both know you can do it, Steve. You're smart enough, you're good enough.' God, I hated those words."

Danny swallows hard at the pain in Steve's voice.

"I wanted to yell at him sometimes, _fucking do it yourself_. I knew his job was tough, I mean, he wouldn't, he wouldn't--" Danny feels him swallow against his chest. "He wouldn't let me forget it. 'Don't be a cop, son, anything but that.' I thought he'd be proud when I joined the Navy."

Danny bites his lip to keep from saying something angry. "What did he say?"

"He didn't say much. Just signed the fucking paperwork. I was a minor, he had to. 'Good luck,' he said. _Fuck_." Steve squeezes his eyes shut, and Danny tightens his grip. "Turns out he was proud, he just didn't fucking say it."

The bitter twist in his voice clogs up Danny's throat. "I'm sorry, babe."

Steve reaches up blindly, and Danny catches his hand, interlaces their fingers, isn't surprised when Steve squeezes hard enough to hurt. "My mom," he says, "my mom-- I don't want to hate her, Danny, I loved her."

"I know, I know you did."

"She hugged me," Steve says, the obstinate note back in his voice, and Danny laughs softly. Steve lifts his head to glare at him, and Danny tugs him up to kiss him.

"She did, huh?"

"Yeah." Steve flops back down. "She hugged me and she'd say, 'Your dad doesn't mean it like that.'"

Danny swears quietly, without sound.

Steve blows out a slow breath over Danny's skin. "I went a few rounds with him as a teenager. Not as much as Mary, I was the eldest, the dutiful son. 'Don't be like your sister.' Fuck that--" Steve chokes on the words. "She's-- she's a wonderful person, and she hurts so much sometimes, I can see it, I just-- I can't fix it, I could never fix it, I couldn't make up for _him_."

"Hey, hey." Danny strokes his back, feels Steve shudder. "Your sister is a great person and she's okay and you're here for her now."

Steve nods, lifts his head to wipe at his eyes. "Shit, Danny."

"You think I never cry, babe? You know better."

It doesn't stop the colour spreading on Steve's cheeks, but Danny counts the watery smile he gets as a win. "You know I kind of hate you right now?"

"Yeah," Danny says easily. "I get that."

Steve nods slowly. "I never told anyone. Even Mary, we don't talk about it."

Danny runs his fingers through Steve's hair again. "It hurts."

"Yeah. But I don't-- didn't want to know. I mean, he-- he did love us, Danny, he just wanted the best for us."

"I know." Danny doesn't think Steve's ready to hear the few choice things on his mind about Jack McGarrett. "He pushed you too hard. That's not an easy thing to deal with."

"Maybe he did." Steve sounds like he's backpedalling, but not everything can be resolved in one night. "But it helped me be better, stronger, helped me get where I am today."

"It's a double edged sword." He feels Steve relax a little, as if Danny's answer there mattered, as if he was braced to be told off. He sucks in a breath. "You're a good man, Steve."

Steve makes a sound, then shifts as if thinking the better of it.

"I love you," Danny adds. "Enough, though. You need to get some rest, or you really are going to come down with pneumonia from that ocean bath you took."

Steve makes a protesting sound, lifts his head to glare at Danny as if to say that a mere virus couldn't defeat him. Danny reaches down and tugs the covers up and around Steve's shoulders, and Steve settles again, dutifully closing his eyes.

Danny listens to the rain and the wind, tries to find a way to live with what happened today, watches Steve sleep on his chest. He shifts, occasionally, a little restless at the noises outside, and Danny soothes him back to sleep before he really wakes.

It's a long time before his own eyes fall shut.

\--  
 _finis_.


End file.
